


Preface

by deltaSpositive



Series: Lestrade [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4666605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltaSpositive/pseuds/deltaSpositive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preface of the autobiography of Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preface

My best and dearest friend Sherlock Holmes has been nagging me to write my own autobiography since I retired.

"I really have had enough writing for a lifetime, Sherlock," I told him, referring to the amount of paperwork I have had during the last years of my career as a Detective Inspector. He gave me a glare, the type that says, 'Oh please, don't be stupid,' and grabbed his laptop from the low table set in front of the sofa.

"You won't need to write or type. I will be your autobiographer," he said matter-of-factly.

"Really?"

"It will be more efficient. And it was I who proposed this in the first place," he said, already typing furiously on the keyboard, "Now, do you want me to type exactly as you say or paraphrase your words slightly? I prefer the latter myself. Better this way."

My heart grows fond for my friend. Over the years he has slowly managed to say things in a way that does not hurt people, and I have John to thank for this change. The Sherlock Holmes I met twenty years ago would probably just say, "Your writing is atrocious."

I smiled at him, "Decision is yours."

 

 

I have asked Sherlock many times why he wants me to write, or more accurately speaking, record down verbally, since I am not the one who does the actual writing, an autobiography. He always just shrugs and turns away. But on one drunken occasion (Arsenal won and I made Sherlock drink with me), I asked again, and he said, "Everyone should know how great you are."

I told him nobody would be interested in the life story of an ordinary detective inspector, and that if there's anyone who should write one, it would be him.

"I am just an obnoxious sociopath who happens to be excellent at deduction." he said flatly as he sipped more of his beer.

"You are a great man, Sherlock Holmes, and a good one too," I reassured him warmly and gave him a drunken pat on his back. Fifteen years ago I had said to John that Sherlock was a great man, and that one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one. Now I have no qualms about it.

The bottle of beer paused at his lips for a moment. "And I cannot be the person I am today without you, Greg," he said, looking at me with sincerity and humbleness. It was one of the rare moments that the sleuth talked to me with all his heart, and I could not be more touched by that.

 

 

So on one sunny day in the summer, we sat down at the front porch of our house in Sussex and started our work. Every Monday and Thursday, from noon to two o'clock, I would talk about my life in detail, and he would type next to me, absorbing the information and spinning it into a beautiful narrative at the same time. We would enjoy the beautiful view of the sea from our particular position at nearly the edge of the chalky cliff, me drinking coffee and him drinking tea, chattering about things that happened in our lives.

I must mention (against Sherlock's adamant objection) that it was most enjoyable to make Sherlock write down his more sentimental moments. He would whine and complain about the excessive romanticism, and I would laugh and make him do what I want. He always finally conceded, though pouting ensued. After all, everyone loves to see the sentimental side of the cold detective.

The writing process was relaxing, soothing, and full of fun. One day, I joked to Sherlock that we should have been writers, and Sherlock agreed.

 

 

We dedicate this book to the late Mycroft Holmes, the love of my life as well as Sherlock's brother, and John Watson, the most faithful and loyal friend of Sherlock Holmes. These two are the most important people in our lives, and without them, I don't know what we could possibly write about.

This book is merely a record of me and a testimony of the two greatest relationships I have ever had. We have no intention to publish it, nor by any means make it accessible to the public, but we do hope that perhaps one day someone will accidentally come across this book, read it, and know the story of an ordinary DI.

 


End file.
